Elementary, My Dear Kennex!
by Athena'sDragon
Summary: When John retired from combat because of his leg injury, he moved to London and somehow ended up living with a consulting detective. You know the story... except this is John Kennex, the year is 2048, and Sherlock Holmes is in direct competition with the androids employed by Scotland Yard.
1. Chapter 1: Good Morning, Sunshine

**Summary:** When John retired from combat because of his leg, he moved to London and ended up living with a consulting detective. You know the story... except this is John Kennex, the year is 2048, and Sherlock Holmes is in direct competition with the androids employed by Scotland Yard.

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**Warnings:** Language, blood, lovey-doviness. :-) Don't say I didn't warn you.

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**Pairings: **Kennex/OC, Sherlock/Irene Adler

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**Author's Note:** Firstly, OMG ALMOST HUMAN. It's the best. Watch it (especially before reading this story). Secondly, sorry I'm updating my stuff so slowly. I'm swamped with school 'n' stuff. Blech. Thanks for sticking with me!

Enjoy this story, which I've spent a lot of time thinking about and planning. I think you'll like it if you like both fandoms. :-)

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Sherlock_, nor do I own _Almost Human_. But I totally should.

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**Chapter 1: Good Morning Sunshine**

Detective John Kennex writhed in his small, military-style bed. Seemingly impervious to the bright streaks of neon light which slanted through his blinds, he squeezed his eyes shut, completely entangled in his nightmare.

_His face was inches from the grimy pavement. It was all he could see, filling up his vision. There were droplets of red, though whether from him or his partner he couldn't tell. His mouth and nose filled with metallic, salty warmth, and he remembered that he was injured._

_He twisted around to disinterestedly examine the stump where his leg used to be. A shard of bone protruded from the spongy gore, and a curl of nausea threaded through his stomach as the first few sound waves penetrated his shock. What was that beeping noise?_

_Shit._

Back in his apartment, Kennex let out a weak whimper that would have ashamed him had he been conscious.

_Training taking over, he flipped back onto his stomach and used his elbows to drag himself forward. The rough street surface caught and pulled at his bullet-proof vest, and his head was so heavy. A jolt of adrenaline raced to his brain and he gasped as his mind sharpened, but never stopped hitching himself painful inches towards safety._

_One last glance over his shoulder promised to reveal his attacker. The figure was lithe, shrouded in black clothing and smoke, but the face-_

With a strangled yelp, Kennex vaulted upright, panting heavily as a mournful siren wailed in the distance.

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He loped painfully through what passed for a park in the crowded metropolis of 2048 London. There was a biodome to keep out the smog, and shimmering flowers (probably synthetic) poked their jewel-toned faces through the overly green blades of grass. The dome was blue-tinted to imitate the sky which had long since disappeared under layers of smoky clouds.

Kennex eyed the Synthetic standing guard in the corner with mistrust. His old-fashioned park ranger's uniform and the gardening tools in is hands did nothing to disguise his chiseled, impassive face. Fortunately, the android was programmed to save energy until his presence was needed, so the detective wouldn't have to put up with his company.

His leg blinked red for a second and reminded him for the third time that it wasn't properly calibrated. He scowled at it, trying to ignore the painful tingling which spread up what was left of his leg. On his next step, it suddenly locked and spoke more forcefully.

"Synthetic calibration incomplete."

He pinwheeled his arms, effectively spilling his coffee all over himself, as he toppled forwards and into a tree, which pixelated briefly with the impact. He supported himself on his good leg while he slapped at his synthetic limb. A warm redness crept up his neck and ears, and he checked to make sure that the Synthetic guard hadn't taken any notice. It hadn't.

"John Kennex?"

The detective pushed himself heavily off of the tree and came to rest on both of his legs, one of which was still locked in place. He tried to wiggle it surreptitiously in hopes that the glitch would right itself.

"Mark?"

The other man grinned and strode forward, but stopped when he got near enough to see his friend clearly. Kennex looked down at himself. Coffee ran down between his fingers, which had apparently crushed his disposable cup when he fell. The brown stain reached most of the way up the arm of his pale blue Oxford and down his ribs, and was starting to drip onto his leg. That might have accounted for part of the problem. He stood gingerly because of his malfunctioning limb, and he probably had horrifying circles under his eyes. He grinned sheepishly.

"John, you look terrible."

"I know." Even after living in London for the better part of a year, Kennex still struggled to understand some of the regional accents of Britain. Mark Hansen had been born and raised in East London, and the policeman tended to be unintelligible beyond the shortest of sentences. "Bad night."

"I guess." Hansen nodded towards a park bench with peeling red paint. "Want to catch up?"

"You're not on duty?"

"Nope."

"Then sure."

Kennex took a step towards the bench, forgetting that his leg was still locked. He galloped a few paces and settled heavily onto the splintered seat, grimacing and tossing his coffee cup into a nearby waste disposal center. As Mark sat next to him, he noted the other man's continued good looks; his toned form hadn't been altered by two years in a coma, and there were no circles under his eyes. Kennex sighed.

"You OK?"  
"Yeah. My leg is just acting up."

Hansen nodded understandingly, but fixed his intense blue eyes on the older man's face. "I mean in general. Living alone must be hard."

Kennex winced at the memory of waking up every morning to see his girlfriend Anna lying next to him. That very morning, he had been expecting a pair of comforting arms after his nightmare and had been confronted with the cold emptiness of his small flat. Hansen leaned in closer and put a hand on his arm.

"John. You need to find someone. It doesn't have to be a woman, that's not what I mean," he hurriedly interjected when Kennex looked disgusted. "I mean someone to share the rent, cook dinner every other night. I see a lot of the town. I could keep my eyes open for you."

Kennex considered asking the young policeman if he was offering himself up for the job. Then he remembered that Hansen lived with his boyfriend in a very comfortable flat across town, so it was unlikely that he would be looking for a place. He shrugged.

"If it would make you feel better. I'm doing fine, though."

Hansen raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Funny, I was having a similar discussion with someone else yesterday, and that's what he said."

"Oh? And who is this mysterious man looking for a flatmate?" Kennex eyes Hansen warily. "Is he some crazy?"

"Well…" the young policeman fidgeted with his bulletproof vest as he thought for a moment. "Why don't you come meet him with me? He's a bit hard to describe otherwise."

Kennex shrugged. It wasn't like he had any better plans for the day. In fact, missing his therapy session meant that his therapist wouldn't keep bothering him to update that stupid blog. He wasn't entirely sure why he was going along with Hansen's plan so easily, but the man had a point. His apartment felt lonelier every day that Anna wasn't there, and he had long since accepted that she wasn't coming back.

"Fine. Where does he work?"

"Well…"


	2. Chapter 2: The Name is Sherlock Holmes

**Author's Note:** This may be slow to update, sorry! Please R&R. Happy Thanksgiving!

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**Chapter 2: The Name is Sherlock Holmes**

Kennex squinted up at the building which towered, grey and foreboding, over the London skyline. "St. Bartholomew's Hospital" was engraved into one exterior wall. Hansen caught him looking up and grinned.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Kennex grunted. "A bit. Don't forget that I'm from New York; I've seen bigger."

Hansen shrugged, still smiling, and made his way into the building. "We're headed to the morgue."

"Huh." Kennex avoided the gazes of the various nurses, patients and families who they passed as they made their way to the elevators and headed down. He didn't like hospitals.

"Yep. This guy spends a lot of time in the lab."

"Is he with the police?"

"Yes and no."

"Oh God. He's not a private detective, is he?"

"Umm…"

"Damn it Hansen. I don't want to work with some stuck-up, know-it-all-"

"Work?"

Kennex scowled. "Live. I meant live. I'm retired and you know it."

The elevator doors slid open and Kennex had no choice but to follow the younger policeman into the depths of the morgue. They went down a long, dimly-lit hallway, which then split into two doorways. One sported a sign labeled "Labs," the other, "Morgue and Synthetic Studies."

"They keep the bots in the morgue?" Kennex asked.

Hansen tightened his lips. "London's progressive enough to have few problems with synthetic acceptance, but that doesn't mean that people want them around them all the time. Scotland Yard's headquarters is just down the street now, so it's a convenient place to stash parts." Kennex nodded and stepped through the first door.

His first impression was of an evil scientist's lab. Beakers in every color of the rainbow sizzled and popped over Bunsen burners around the room. A long table ran down the center and was covered in microscopes, case files and old newspaper clippings, Petri dishes, bags of leaves and microchips, and, inexplicably, shoe laces. The counter which circled the room was filled with a ridiculous number of jars of synthetic eyes and small electronic parts, but there were also bottles and jars of chemicals and powders and samples.

A man stood in the far corner of the room, using a pipette to drop a clear liquid into a Petri dish. He had grey eyes and longish, curly hair. His aloof, vaguely curious expression seemed to perfectly match the long dark coat and scarf which he wore in the chilly basement room. He glanced up at Kennex even as he continued to conduct his experiment and manipulate a holoscreen with his other hand.

"NYPD?"

"What?" Kennex glanced down at himself, almost wondering if he was wearing his uniform. He wasn't. "Oh. Yeah. I was."

"Before you lost your leg in combat, spent a while in a coma- probably a little over a year- discovered that your girlfriend was missing, and moved to London for a change of scene. Of course, now you need a flatmate. Would it bother you if I played violin late at night?"

Kennex gaped and looked at Hansen, who just smiled and shook his head. "Sorry, how did you know that?" He was getting a little annoyed at this man whose name he didn't even know.

"You clearly have a synthetic right leg- you're favoring it strongly. Your clothes are obviously in the American style, so you must have just moved here. You're not visiting because I was just talking to Hansen yesterday about needing a flatmate, and what other reason would you have for coming down here? You're wearing a dogtag with the letter "A" around your neck. Abby? Anna?" Kennex must have changed his expression slightly, because the man nodded. "Anna. About 80% of those are given as gifts, about the expense level of something a girlfriend would give you. If you had broken up, whoever initiated it, you wouldn't have hesitated to get rid of it. As it is, you're hoping that she'll come back. A policeman in New York, injured and in a coma? The crime scene there is horrifying. She's obviously missing."

"OK, how did you know about the coma? And that I was NYPD?" Kennex was trying incredibly hard not to look impressed, but he probably failed because the man smirked.

"I can't tell you all my secrets. That would be no fun."

"Sure." Kennex strode forward and examined a few of the beakers on the table. "So. You're looking for a flatmate too?"

"Yes, there's a lovely little place that I've been looking at. Know the landlady. We can meet tomorrow when I'm done with this case."

Kennex wasn't given a chance to respond because two more people entered the room. The door swung open to reveal a woman and a synthetic. The woman was tall and wiry, dressed in a blue Oxford and khaki slacks. Her dark brown hair was swept up into a loose bun and her porcelain skin was almost glowing under the grimy, flickering lights. Startling against her light skin was a spider-like piece of electronic equipment which covered her right eye. It was black and shiny, and tendrils extended out and into her skin in a twisting, gnarled shape. When she turned to Kennex, he saw that it was actually a synthetic eye. It was bright purple, not even close to matching her natural green one, and pulsing blue lights would flow through the black extensions reaching out from it and into her skin. It looked like it might be wired directly into her nervous system, but it was hard to tell.

The synthetic had a creamy brown skin and short, dark hair. Similar blue lights would occasionally appear along his cheekbones and at his temples. Neither looked particularly dangerous, but Kennex took a few steps backwards out of habit.

The woman glanced at the man performing the experiments before following Kennex. "Detective John Kennex. Pleasure to meet you." She extended a hand, which he shook cautiously. "I'm Chief Inspector Eliza Grey. This is my partner, Dorian. I assume you know Detective Inspector Hansen and Mr. Holmes here."

"I was just about to introduce myself. I'm Sherlock Holmes," the man said without looking up.

"How did you know my name?" Kennex asked, ignoring Sherlock Holmes.

The woman tapped her synthetic eye and smiled. "This has all the capabilities of any other synthetic eye. I can download information directly to my brain. It also makes it easier to communicate with Dorian." The android in question glanced at Kennex, then at Grey, who pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I really didn't need to know that, Dorian, nor did I want to."

Kennex looked confused. "What?"

"He scanned your- never mind."

Dorian stepped forwards to shake hands, too. He frowned when Kennex hesitated. That was the first thing that let the retired detective know that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary synthetic, and he put two and two together. "You're one of the crazy ones."

When Dorian spoke, it was with a smooth American accent with tones of annoyance. "I have been programmed to experience human emotions, if that's what you mean by crazy."

The look which Eliza Grey was giving him was pretty frosty, so Kennex backed off. "Right. Sorry."

"Dorian is the best partner I've ever had," Grey stated as she put a companionable arm around the androids shoulders. He smiled at the compliment and shrugged her off. It was clear enough that they were close. "He's reliable, smart, and we can communicate easily. We're good friends, too."

"So I gather."

Sherlock Holmes finally looked up and realized that Mark Hansen had wandered over to examine a Petri dish. He shooed the young man away and called to Grey. "Chief Inspector, I have a few of the models which you requested."

"Cool." She walked over to where Holmes was offering her a tray of variations on her synthetic eye. One was silver metal with a liquid gold eye, one was skin-colored plastic with a green eye to match her other one, and the third was a rich teal with purple swirls in the style of peacock feathers. The iris on this one was warm brown.

She gently wrapped her fingers around her current black and purple model and tugged. The tendrils released from her face with a sickening sliding noise which made Kennex feel vaguely nauseated and came away in her hand, waving feebly. Her red, scarred eye socket was pockmarked with black holes where electronics had penetrated her skin. Grey smiled when Kennex shuddered. "Feeling a little uncomfortable? There's a reason why I'm the best interrogator this place has."

She slipped the inconspicuous natural eye into the socket first. Her other eye immediately started watering and she staggered backwards into the shelf, where Hansen put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Ugh. Not properly calibrated, out-of-date software, blurry and gyros totally shot." She clawed it off of her face and grabbed the peacock model from the tray while Kennex watched with a sort of morbid fascination. "This one looks like something from a masquerade ball." This one was inserted and she blinked rapidly a few times. "This one's good. It's too pretty for everyday use, though."

Hansen walked back over to Kennex and whispered to him. "Detective Inspector Elizabeth Grey. She's the reason Holmes is allowed to work with us. They have a higher combined IQ than the entire rest of the department, and believe me when I say that I'm not exaggerating much. She insists on still working in the field, and it's a good thing because she's one of the best. Dorian came to us when NYPD rejected his model, and she took him under her wing. They're closer than anything. Everyone at Scotland Yard loves her like a sister, and she's tough but so nice to everyone. She lost her eye in a hostage situation a few years ago, and let's just say that no one has ever been hunted down and killed faster."

Kennex eyed Grey, who was now marveling over the sharp zoom capabilities of the metallic eye. "What's the catch?"

"She's crazy. Completely off her rocker. She's always coming up with these insane ideas like- well, that eye for one thing. And bringing on Holmes to work on some of our cases. And making everyone at the Yard wear all orange on one day a month."

Kennex raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Who knows. But she's single."

"You brought me hear to play matchmaker?"

"Maybe." Hansen grinned. "I'm not kidding, Holmes needs a flatmate. He's kinda crazy too, but a good guys, and brilliant. I also happened to know that Eliza and Dorian would be here today."

Kennex sighed in annoyance, but Grey interrupted. "Mark, do you consider this frightening?" She bared her teeth as she spun her false eye around to replace the gold iris with a fiery red one.

"Umm, yes, Eliza, I do," Hansen stated. "I think it's terrifying."

She grinned and spun her eye back around the right way. "So you brought Detective Kennex to try and set him up with me?"

Hansen looked startled, then laughed. "Dorian could hear me and he was streaming to you."

"Yep."

Dorian, who had been fairly silent through the whole strange meeting, smiled and waved in the corner.

"He's also going to be my new flatmate," Holmes interjected. He had been silently packing up his equipment and was preparing to leave. "Dorian, if the brother has a green ladder, arrest him. Otherwise, it's the neighbor. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I left my riding crop in the morgue."

"Wait," Kennex almost shouted, feeling thoroughly overwhelmed by the whole situation. "I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name!"

"The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street." The man winked and withdrew his head around the door.

"He's always like that," Hansen assured the distressed Kennex. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Kennex looked around at Hansen, Grey, and Dorian, all of whom were waiting for him to say something. In his classic style, he scowled and made to stalk out of the room. "I need to go calibrate my leg."


	3. Chapter 3: Do You Know This Woman?

**Chapter 3: Do You Know This Woman?**

Kennex pulled up in front of 221B Baker Street in an old, battered cab. This part of London was still relatively picturesque; the streets were open, the businesses were completely legal, and the people clung to the way of life that had disappeared almost entirely after about 2020.

The door to the building was black and glossy with shiny gold numbers. He lurked around in front of it for a few minutes, wondering whether he should knock or wait for Holmes. Fortunately, it he didn't have to wait very long before the tall man came striding up and knocked without any greeting.

A woman opened the door. She was short, with permed, mousy hair and a kind expression. She immediately embraced Holmes.

"Hello, Sherlock, dear! Here to look at the flat?"

He nodded, then turned to the detective standing next to him. "Mr. Kennex, Mrs. Hudson."

"Sherlock was a great help to me a few years ago. My husband was on trial in Florida."

"You prevented her husband from being sentenced?"

"Oh, no, I ensured it."

With that fairly alarming statement, Holmes drifted into the house, leaving Kennex no choice but to follow. A door led to another apartment, presumably the 221A where Kennex expected that Mrs. Hudson lived. Another door labeled "221C" led to a staircase going down. He followed the two people in front of him up another staircase, which then opened up into a small living room. He could see a hallway leading to a bathroom, an office, and a couple of bedrooms. There was a kitchen on the left. The entire flat was filled with piles of books, odd pillows and broken tables, and boxes of miscellaneous possessions. He turned to the expectant-looking Holmes.

"You've already moved in, I see."

"Umm, a bit," he responded as he jumped forward and pushed a stack of papers off of a chair. "I can obviously tidy up a bit."

Kennex didn't respond. He was perfectly comfortable in his own flat, and was beginning to doubt Hansen's assurance that a flatmate would help him. He shrugged and settled down into the chair; his leg was bothering him.

A flickering blue and red light washed over the ceiling by the window as a police cruiser pulled up on the street below. Holmes leaned against the glass and smiled.

"There's a new development in that sexbot case."

"What?"

The tall man turned his back to the window. "There's been a bit of a fiasco lately with traffickers using human skin on sexbots. That's illegal, obviously. They've pulled me in to help on it, but not in a while. There must be news."

He had barely finished speaking before none other than D.I. Hansen jogged up the stairs. He nodded to acknowledge Kennex before explaining the situation.

"We've got a bot."

"You captured a live one?"

"She turned herself over. She's a clever one, and she's making demands for information."

"Go. I'll follow in a cab." Hansen nodded and jogged back down to street level. Holmes collected his coat and followed, but reappeared a moment later. "John Kennex."

"Holmes."

"Feel free to call me Sherlock." Kennex nodded. "Do you want to come in with me?"

"What? Why?"

"I talked to Hansen a little bit about you last night. You were one of the best at NYPD. You've got to be hating just sitting here waiting for something to happen. Come out and get a taste of the action again."

Kennex thought about it, he really did. He thought about the labels that he had now- PTSD, disabled, OCD… all of the reasons that it would be a bad idea. He thought about the situation that had gotten him here in the first place, and how he didn't want to have to deal with that annoying android Dorian any more than he had to, and how he should stay the hell away from Eliza Grey. Unfortunately, he thought about all of these things much later.

"OK, fine." At the least, it might keep his mind off of things for the day, and he was genuinely curious as to how the Yard would handle things.

Sherlock beamed. "Excellent. Come on, then!"

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The Scotland Yard office was a bustling, slightly insane place. The logistics and research people worked away on computers and holoscreens, officers wandered through with their coffee cups on their way to get briefed, and in the middle of it all sat the bot being interrogated.

Kennex loped after Sherlock as he wound his way expertly through the organized chaos. The woman was seated at a low table separated from the rest of the office by a glass partition. C.I. Grey and Dorian were keeping watch, and Hansen also got there just ahead of them. Sherlock and Kennex crowded into the room and shut the door behind them. Grey launched right into briefing them.

"Good morning boys." She smiled at them both, causing half of her face to contort oddly around the new silver eye which she was wearing today. Kennex tried to keep his mouth from smiling back and ended up grimacing. "This is Miss Irene Adler. She's a skin. Fortunately for us, she's from the same research line as Dorian, and therefore has a sense of ethics. She turned herself in to us in exchange for protection."

The android sitting at the table smiled and nodded. She was dressed reasonably in a white peacoat and black slacks, though her complex hairdo and immaculate makeup were more in keeping with the traditional sexbot style. Her legs were crossed and she leaned calmly back in her chair, clearly in control of the situation.

Grey continued. "I'm calling Rudy up to help us out." She spoke to Kennex. "He used to be NYPD, as well. He came to us when they rejected Dorian."

"I know Rudy," Kennex stated simply before focusing his attention back on Irene Adler. Sherlock had been calmly examining her throughout Grey's entire explanation. Judging by the smirk on his face, he already had some information that the police had missed.

"OK, let's let him do his thing," Grey suggested to Dorian. He nodded and they gestured to Kennex that he should exit the room ahead of them. They all shuffled out of the crowded enclosure while Sherlock remained behind and Grey led them to her office. The semi-imposing desk and big leather chairs were the stereotypical ones to find in a building like this, but the soothing green walls and dragon action figures on a shelf were more unusual.

Kennex leaned against the wall. Dorian and Hansen glanced at each other, then made a leap to sit in the same chair at the same time. They both ended up wedged tightly in, grinning like idiots.

"Boys," Grey chuckled as she settled behind her desk. She rolled her eyes conspiratorially at Kennex and began pulling up files on her computer. "Look, we've still got business to do."

The holographic wall behind Kennex lit up and he jumped away from it. Case files, photos and records swirled around as Grey manipulated them on her computer and finally came to rest in some sort of order. A line of death certificates lined one side of the screen, and photos snatched of androids intermingled with reports of their capture, death, or disappearance. Each skin droid had a line drawn to a woman's death certificate.

Hansen put a hand on Kennex's shoulder, making him jump. "Look John. Eliza won't say anything about this because she's not one for procedure, but you have to understand that you're bound to confidentiality about this. The Yard can't have anyone running around and spoiling these cases"

"Except Sherlock Holmes," Kennex said dryly.

"He doesn't really talk anyway. We can trust him. Look, I'm not accusing you of being untrustworthy or anything, but our superiors would kill us if they found out we were bringing in Sherlock, much less his NYPD flatmate. Just keep quiet is all I'm saying."

"Fine."

The briefing was interrupted by a huge commotion coming from outside the office.

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**Author's Note:** This is taking forever to post because I have a life (and multiple other stories). Sorry, but enjoy your holidays! Thanks for readaddict123 for being the first to review. Virtual hug, my friend!


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